What Came Before
by Penguin1127
Summary: It's not new that people fear things that are different—things that are completely beyond their understanding. There was a time that Silvers were few, and tracked down because they were different from the rest. This is the story of one of them.
1. Prologue

**So, this is my attempt at a Red Queen fanfic. I'll try to complete this story(there's nothing I hate more than a great story put on hiatus, which has happened too many times), but I'm not making any promises. Ideas are ideas, and words are words-they're two completely different things. It'll take me some time to update, between school and other activities and writer's block(which I'm sure happens to almost everyone). I hope you enjoy!**

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Prologue

"What's wrong with her? Tell me!" The mother was frantic as she watched the baby- _her_ baby, lying pale and cold in the doctor's arms.

"We're not sure. She's alive, but it seems that her blood is different."

"What do you mean, different?"

The doctor hesitated before answering. "Well, it might be a genetic mutation in the color of her blood, but…."

"Genetic mutation?!"

The doctor swallowed hard. Why did he have to be the one to break the news to a frantic mother? "Her blood is...silver."

The mother stared at the doctor disbelievingly for a few seconds. "You must be joking."

"I wish I was," the doctor replied, holding up a vial of the baby's blood. It was iridescent and shining in the sunlight filtering through the window, and it would have been a breathtaking sight if it weren't for the... _abnormality_ of the situation.

The mother gasped at the sight. "Oh my goodness..."

"We'll be testing her for any more signs of...um, _uniqueness_." The doctor stumbled for words, trying to make the case seem better than it really was.

The mother narrowed her eyes. "Don't hurt her."

"Of course we won't."

Meanwhile, in the tiny, newborn baby, a seed of power was unfurling within her. If only they knew what was to happen….

* * *

They noticed how she was unusual. How she never seemed to lose her balance, how the sunlight seemed to bend at her will, and most of all, how she always seemed to know what they were thinking.

It was creepy, to know that someone knew your most private thoughts and moments.

Maybe that was the reason why they stayed away.

They never gave her a second glance. _Not worth our time,_ they thought.

They knew she knew things about them that no one else did. _A stalker,_ they claimed.

They knew she was different- _a freak_ , they called her.

They knew she was more powerful, more mysterious than other people. _Trying to hide in the shadows,_ they said.

They noticed how she never seemed to blush red, but seemed to pale. _Using too much makeup,_ they dismissed it as.

They knew that there would be consequences if they shunned her. _But that was what they did anyways._

What they didn't know was how right they were….


	2. Chapter 1

**I should say that some of you are awful at encouraging a writer to update—but that would be hypocritical (and mean) of me. But please tell me what you think of this so I know that I'm not writing complete trash...**

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Chapter 1:

I know I'm different.

I see the way people look at me, the whispers, the rumors.

Truthfully, I don't mind. I can't understand why—or how this happened to me. What I do know about my condition is pitiful.

I'm pretty much superhuman, I can tell you that. I don't know how exactly it works, but I have these weird... _quirks_. Weird abilities that no one should be able to have.

My mother said that it's because my blood is silver. I didn't believe her—how can my blood be _silver_? Blood is red, just like the sky is blue. A fact that cannot possibly be changed.

But then again, I've never seen my blood. I've never bled before. Every time I think I would get a paper cut or my nose would start bleeding, it doesn't. There's always this feeling like a cool breeze sweeping over wherever I think the injury is, and suddenly it's gone. Vanished into thin air, leaving my skin unblemished and smooth.

Yet my mother—she said that she's seen my blood. Only once.

But once was enough for her.

 _Shimmering silver,_ she always said it was. _Iridescent and shining. It was beautiful—the sight of your blood. Exquisite. The blood of a queen._

At that point, I would always scoff at the idea. _Me? Silver blood—the blood of a queen? Yeah, right._

She would always look at me with an unreadable emotion in her blue eyes. Sadness, or disappointment, maybe? _It's true. Why else do you have all these abilities?_

 _That's why I'm a freak. No one would want me as their queen._

 _I would. You would be my Silver Queen._

I shook my head, dissipating the distant memory. Accidentally shifting my arm with a bouquet of needles planted in it, I yelped in pain.

"Be quiet," the doctor hissed, irritated. "I'm trying to work here."

I inwardly rolled my eyes, though I knew I shouldn't—not when she had already given me so much.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," she reprimanded me without looking up from her notes.

She knew me too well.

"I didn't!"

"Sure." This time it was her turn to roll her eyes before resuming furiously scribbling on a sheet of paper. A few more scribbles, glances at the needles sticking out all over me like I was a pin cushion, then muttering incoherent observations under her breath, it was silent for a few minutes except for the scratching of the pen against paper. Suddenly dropping her pen on the metal desk with a echoing clatter, she stood up. "Now, let's try this again."

I involuntarily winced, even though she hadn't removed any of my needles yet. _Yet_. "Ouch," I muttered under my breath as she slowly removed one of my hundreds of needles. Watching the skin close up under the needle as she extracted it, the second she lifted the wretched silver pricker, my skin was left smooth and without a trace of blood.

"Amazing," she mumbled for the zillionth time. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before.

I opened my mouth for the zillionth time to ask her if she would ever get over it, but she answered before I could speak.

"And no, I'm not going to get over it. It's amazing! You're unable to bleed!"

Again, she knew me way too well at this point—almost inside out.

And she was one of the only ones who did.

The only other person who didn't look at me as if I were some disgusting _creature_ when they found out who I was—what I was here—was already gone.

Gone. Dead. _And I watched her die._ I knew it would happen. I knew it would.

But did I try to stop it?

No.

I'm no less of a monster than they make me out to be. I've already seen too much, heard too much.

It started out small—like every major disaster does. A plant seemingly growing out out of nowhere right next to my feet, an object moving towards me a little bit, before suddenly shifting back so quickly that when I blinked, I doubted it had even happened. And sometimes, I would hear a thought that I knew wasn't mine.

But then it grew stronger.

Water, light, objects bended at my will. When I wished for clear weather, the clouds would suddenly dissolve into thin air and the sun's rays would cheerfully shine down on me. A few glimpses of scenes into the future grew to full visions. I became stronger—strong enough to punch through a stone wall without breaking my fist. Even if I did, before I would even feel the pain, my hand would heal itself.

But what scared me the most was the things I heard or saw. I would be able to _invade_ someone's mind—hear their most private thoughts or memories. More than that, I felt the pain, the joy, the sorrows of their moments shared with the people they loved. It felt completely _wrong_ , just watching someone's life story playing out in front of you, hearing their deepest secrets buried so deep that even they didn't know it was there.

 _And yet you still did it. You still pried into the minds of who knows how many people._ _You're a monster, you know that? Who in the world just watches their mother die and not do anything about it? You saw it, you could've prevented it. You could've, but you didn't. You betrayed her. Monster. Traitor._

Ignoring the thousands of little jabs of the needles digging into my flesh as I moved, I clutched my head, trying to block out the little voices who were chanting in my head.

 _ **It wasn't my fault.**_ _Yes it was._ _ **I couldn't stop the lightning.**_ _But it was still yours, was it not?_ _ **I was aiming for the officer.**_ _It still hit her._ _ **It wasn't for her.**_ _But you were still going to kill an innocent person just executing his job. Her death was your fault, your fault only. You can't deny that it was because of you._ _ **But still...**_ _IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT._ _ALL YOUR FAULT. HER DEATH WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND ONLY YOU…._

It was like a never-ending mantra in my head, all the little voices whispering to me chanting together that her death was my fault and my fault only. Suddenly, their incessant clamoring lowered to a slight whisper, but I didn't have time to enjoy my respite. I was suddenly much smaller, more vulnerable. The hum of power beneath my skin lessened drastically. I was in a familiar place—too familiar. _This was the day it happened_. I could only watch in apprehensive horror as the day's events unfolded. I couldn't control my actions—I was reduced to a mere bystander in my own mind. I couldn't look away, couldn't close my eyes and pretend that I couldn't see. No, I had to watch. And when the fatal moment came, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't change the course of time. Everything slowed down, as I watched the purple lightning streak towards the officer, who dodged the bolt at the last minute. The second before the deadly sparks hit my mother, I heard a tranquil voice cut through the flashback, like the eye of the storm.

"Elisa. You're fine. You're okay. It wasn't your fault."

 _Mira. Thank goodness._ But how could I believe that when it was clearly me who had killed her? If it weren't for me, the officers wouldn't have come, the bolt of lightning wouldn't have been thrown, and she would have been alive.

It doesn't matter what anyone says anymore. No matter if it is true or not, I've already heard the voices, the words too many times. And if you hear it repeating over and over again, day after day, you start believing it's true.

Maybe that's why I've become what I've become.


	3. Chapter 2

**The grand leap of faith for publishing Chapter 2 after all this long while...The regular excuse: school, paired with another regular excuse: writer's block. I want to apologize in advance for anything that doesn't fit the Red Queen universe, as King's Cage is about to come out and probably is going to make this story completely invalid. Oh, and I also want to warn you that there will probably be multiple chapters before none of them end on cliffhangers anymore, after this one. Although this one could be counted as a half/sort-of cliffhanger depending on your point of view. . . .**

 **readwritereview: I'm glad you think that it's an interesting concept! I had a major internal conflict on whether or not Elisa should have multiple powers...you can see which side won. Although it complicates things a lot. Although this chapter wasn't exactly 'soon'...but I'll try to write more before too long!**

 **Anonmus: Thanks! Glad you thought it is awesome. Here's the next chapter below! :)**

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Chapter 2:

Although it was technically my birthday today, January 11, it wasn't like I was expecting people to throw me a surprise party complete with confetti and streamers. On the contrary, I hated my birthday.

The worst thing of my life happened on what was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. It hurts to think how completely innocent I was back then—all I cared about was cake, balloons, and gifts. I was completely not ready for reality to strike me in the face while I was floating on a cloud of joy and delighted expectation.

Of course, reality always hits you when you least expect it—when you are completely off guard and content with your lives. One second everything is fine, and then the next your carefully built world consisting of all things normal comes crashing down around you.

Reality is horrible, but you have to learn to look in its eyes—the ones with all the appalling truths of life—and don't let it bring you down. You have to learn to live with it.

I wish I could say that most people in my school had some idea of what reality is, but apparently they don't—at all. Their so-called 'reality' consists of pushing nobodies into the lockers, strutting down the hallways like they own it, and talking only in exclusive little 'popular' cliques.

Maybe I should have seen the last shove into the lockers coming.

"Ow," I muttered under my breath. I had uttered that phrase trillions of times already that I almost didn't even register the pain.

"What, aren't you even going to give us more of a show than that? Or did we not push you hard enough?" A girl. What was her name again? It didn't matter. They didn't bother to learn mine, so why should I for them?

Reading my silence as fear, another girl joined in, her voice irritatingly squeaky and high. "Yeah, aren't you supposed to be crying like the coward you are right now?"

I tried ignoring the last one, but it still slipped through the cracks in my facade. _I_ am _a coward. Didn't I run, trying to escape the guilt and sorrow that followed me everywhere? Didn't I try to hide from reality?_ Straining to hide how close the words struck to the truth, I tried brushing past them to my next class. Nearly tripping over a foot stuck in my way, I regained my balance at the last minute and whirled around to face whoever it was. "WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME _ALONE_?"

A boy with unruly brown hair stood in front of me, smirking infuriatingly at my reaction. "So it's true. She can't fall," he muttered more to himself than to me.

I noticed he was a tad bit shorter than I was, for which I was glad. Sending death glares isn't as effective when you're craning your neck upwards to meet the person's eyes.

But those eyes...they weren't something you would see every day. They were an intense blue, and although they were clear with light amusement now, I knew they could quickly become unnervingly cold and calculating.

Taking a moment to adjust to the fact that someone was actually _talking_ to me, I snapped, "And what is that supposed to mean?" although I was well aware of the rumors circulating the school.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. Just some things that I heard."

 _He must be new,_ I realized, _If he doesn't know to stay away from the social outcasts of the school. Particularly me._ "Look, I'm telling you. Stay away from us freaks if you want a chance of getting out of high school alive."

"And if I don't?" He definitely wasn't taking this seriously enough.

I narrowed my eyes. "Then I already told you. You'll be dead by the time you reach graduation." Spinning on my heel, I stalked off in the opposite direction, not bothering to glance behind me. _Ah, well. Might as well get some exercise walking to my next class the long way._

* * *

Let's just say that for the rest of the day, I was wondering why it was so hard to just _listen_ to what I had to say(though most of the people at school had no problem with that for two years, now). I warned him to stay away, but did he? No.

I swear, if this keeps up for the next month or so, he'll be checked into both the hospital and the mental hospital for babbling about 'the girl who can shoot lightning' or 'the girl who set the school on fire with her hands' with a first-class experience to prove it.

Hearing footsteps behind me echoing in the deserted hallway, I didn't even bother to look behind me before sharply accusing, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I want to know if the rumors are true or not."

"Rumors are _rumors_ —stories made up from the miniscule figments of imagination that these idiots possess."

I could almost see him feigning hurt. "Even me?"

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "You especially. You don't know what you're getting into if you don't stop." _In other words, you are most likely going to get choked by some plants growing out of the ground, or get drowned in a bubble of water, or get set on fire if you don't stop stalking me._

"So why don't you tell me; what exactly am I getting into if you know so well?" His voice was defiant, with a surprising amount of seriousness.

The question made me stop cold. _I don't know,_ I wanted to scream. _I don't know why it had to happen for me. I don't know why I have these abilities. I don't know what exactly is happening. All I know is that I'm dangerous._ _I've known that for years, now._ Instead of speaking up, I kept quiet and silently walked to my last class, leaving him glowering at my retreating backside.

I was late, but it didn't matter.

No one noticed. No one cared.

I tried not to reminisce the five words the officer said that day. The one phrase that hurt more than any others.

But it still slipped into my mind.

 _No one cares about you._

And perhaps it was true.

* * *

Eleven years. A miracle to behold that Mira had been able to put up with me for that long, considering I could've easily burned her house down multiple times. Or flood her house. Or make plants grow all over it so that you couldn't even open the door.

Normal five-year olds are a handful, but when a five-year old has the ability to control the five elements and much more, you sort of get the idea that you won't survive a day with them.

Thankfully, I grew out of that phase.

Mira was the first person since that day that didn't chase me out of their house screaming bloody murder after I accidentally swamped their basement, or set a book on fire. She was the one who taught me to control it, to make it a part of me. And for that I owed her almost everything.

But sometimes I wonder how well I would cope if I were panicking or extremely vexed—would it be like last time? Would I destroy more than I could help mend?

Little did I know that it was soon to be tested.


End file.
